


The Flesh and the Spirit

by elfkinwoods



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pets, Romance, Sleeping Together, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfkinwoods/pseuds/elfkinwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a while, he silently keeps listening to the sound of it--Merlin’s breathing, quiet and peaceful, with a hint of untraceable, trembling softness to it. It is as if a whole river of tranquil water runs through his breathing, crystal clear, mirroring a sky full so full of star dust and ashes. Arthur thinks. Since when has he become so poetic?</p><p>A story in which Arthur and Merlin go through what they have to go through, dragons and battles, wounds and heartbreaks, falling in love and dealing with hurt, and evetually, they move towards love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flesh and the Spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KateLaurant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateLaurant/gifts).



> This beautiful story was originally written in Chinese by the lovely KateLaurant, who has kindly given me consent to translate it into English. I try to be as faithful to the story as I can, and hopefully you will all enjoy this as much as I did. <3
> 
> The story has 8 parts in total. I'm posting them as soon as I finish the translation for each one. :D
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point them out.
> 
> Comments will be much appeciated by both Kate and myself. :DDD
> 
> And you will also find a link to Kate's original post on LOFTER in the end notes.

With inspirations from and references to The _Unbearable Lightness of Being_.

 

01.

 

Arthur awakes from his sleep, in the middle of the night, the sound of breathing from the other subtly filling the darkness of the room, light as feather.

For a while, he silently keeps listening to the sound of it--Merlin’s breathing, quiet and peaceful, with a hint of untraceable, trembling softness to it. It is as if a whole river of tranquil water runs through his breathing, crystal clear, mirroring a sky full so full of star dust and ashes. Arthur thinks. Since when has he become so poetic?

Arthur is very much a light sleeper, who wakes up at least once, sometimes three times, at night. He remembers being so unaccustomed to waking up to the sound of breathing that was not his own, to feeling a warmth of another body. Pressed against his side was such strange yet familiar heat, flowing into his veins through the touch of skin to skin; while another warm body occupied the right side of the bed, making it dip ever so slightly--the weight of another breathing life.

At the beginning, Arthur was afraid he would find it hard to fall asleep again, whenever he woke at night. But as it was, he got used to taking in the company of Merlin’s slow, peaceful breathing, and falling back to sleep in the dimly conscious moment. It took a procession of change for that to settle; fast, one might say, as a summer thunderstorm, and slow, at the same time, as great earth plates would move. Yet all in all, though he cannot remember when it began to form, the soft sound of life from the other has become such an indispensable habit that he cannot go to sleep without the sound of Merlin’s breathing and that of his heart beating. Perhaps, the inevitability of it has been long destined, ever since that first night they shared a bed and fell together into sleep. Arthur found himself clasping hands with a soundly sleeping Merlin that night in the darkness, their fingers tangled. They were grabbing onto each other so tight, as if they were trying to make their two completely different souls join as one.

Would they really have held hands like that all night? It was a bit hard to believe for Arthur at the time; however, it has been revealed to him, many times over, that it was not just that one night, but every night after--and when they are not holding hands, they go for embracing and cuddling.

Just like how Merlin’s hand is lying across his palm, warm as candlelight. He could feel the quiet drumming of the blood flow under Merlin’s skin, so light, yet so strong. Arthur is mesmerised by the rhythm of life in this, as he closes his eyes again, tiredness rushing over him like giant waves, swallowing him up.

Arthur recalls, rather vaguely, the dream he had before waking up: he had lost Merlin in it. He looked so young, twelve at most, merely a silly, blonde-haired little boy. He was running, looking for Merlin everywhere; he went to many places and asked many people, but none of them led him to finding Merlin. The boy was on the brink of tears, worried sick, but he kept on running, kept on looking for Merlin-- only when he woke up to hear Merlin’s breathing and heartbeats, did his heart return to its usual place.

He sank into deep, untroubled sleep, knowing that he had found Merlin at last.

 

02.

 

Arthur was twenty-two when he first kissed Merlin.

It came out of nowhere and shocked them both, but that didn’t really make it awkward. After so many years, Arthur still recalls that as if it was yesterday, just like whenever he recalls their not so pleasant first meeting at the inner side of the city gates. It happened when they had just survived the spell that drove the whole city into lazy sleep, and made a narrow escape from the blonde sorceress with her six immortal knights; Morgana had gone--it was a price they had to pay, but after all, they lived, and put an end to it all.

This came as quite a joyful surprise for Arthur. He remembered he had been ready to meet his death when he stepped out of that door. He even told Merlin probably the soppiest thing he’d ever say in his life, on an impulse enhanced by the prospect of dying, determined and sure. Much to his own amazement, he wasn’t going to take those words back at all.

He had been standing by the windows of his chambers, until the sun had set and the grave night was closing in, the last trace of blood-red light fading away into the dark black horizon. The room fell into darkness behind him, but Arthur did not move, and just stood there. Half still taking in the incredibility, half giving up to exhaustion.

At the very moment someone pushed open the door and entered. Without Knocking. Only three people in the whole city would do such a thing: Morgana had been taken away by the sorceress, so it couldn’t be her; the footsteps sounded to light and ill-paced to be his father, whose steps had always been firm, quick, and dull. Arthur finally moved away from the window, fumbling a little in the dark, and walked to Merlin.

“Why didn’t you light the candles?” Merlin whispered. It was too dark in the room for Arthur to make out the look on his face, but he could still hear tiredness in his voice.

“Because that’s your job.” replied Arthur, feeling both disappointed and relieved that Merlin wasn’t going to bring up all the nonsense about afterlife and servants. He cleared his throat. “Where have you been this time?”

 _ _A slight hiss.__  Merlin lighted the nearest candlestick. Dim, yellowish light sprang out and filled across the space about them. Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes, shining an exotic shade mixed with grey-blue and gold in the dull candle light. He hadn’t realized how close they were, but the surprising thing was that it didn’t feel unnatural-- __probably because of the candlelight__. It was mottled and so faint, swaying at the slightest touch of wind, framing everything around with a dreamy glow.

“...I helped Gaius check upon the others, to make sure the spell didn’t cause any side-effects.”answered Merlin, after a slight pause. Just like that, the illuminated corner was once again left still in a long silence. Arthur held his gaze at Merlin, not quite sure of what he wanted to say, or to get. He was still utterly puzzled even when Merlin gave him a nervous, silly little grin; however, when Merlin bent his head down and started, so naturally, helping Arthur off with his vambrace, Arthur understood.

Perhaps it was because Merlin was so casual, so natural with his moves--with his head slightly bent, his hair brushing Arthur’s forehead and tickling. Arthur could hear his breathing. His fingers moved with such familiarity, born out of habit and instinct, as if he had done this thousands of times-- and he really had. Merlin pulled at the buckles of his armour, and Arthur watched him, and then, and then, __he just got it.__

 

_(to be continued)_

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the original Chinese version of the story here <3  
> http://katelaurant.lofter.com/post/26b9a4_b2eda26


End file.
